


I Love You

by ghostwulf



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Family Fluff, Feel-good, Gen, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26226952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostwulf/pseuds/ghostwulf
Summary: Mokuba hasn't said it in years, but he'll say it today.
Relationships: Kaiba Mokuba & Kaiba Seto
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	I Love You

The moment itself was simple—Mokuba was playing Xbox with his friend Daisuke when Daisuke’s little brother burst into the room, tears on his face, a broken model airplane in his hands. Daisuke took less than a minute gluing the wing back together, and then little Taki threw his arms around his big brother, exclaiming, “Thank you, Daisuke! Love you, Daisuke!”

The moment itself was simple, but the aftershock was not; Mokuba was still feeling it when the light faded and he started the walk home. It was like getting dropped in a tub of ice cubes, shocking and uncomfortable and sudden, with a lingering cold he couldn’t shake.

It had been years.

Had it really been years?

He couldn’t remember much from before their parents died. Seto had been ten, but Mokuba had only been five. Most of what he held onto was vague, feelings more than images, the _idea_ of a mom and dad. But he was sure they’d said it a lot, sure he’d learned to write it in crayon and marker, scrawled it across every stick-figure family picture. He’d always drawn Seto’s stick figure in blue. And he’d always written the message in blue, too. He was sure of it.

Had he done it at the orphanage? Yes. But the other boys made fun of him. (He recognized it now as jealousy; not everyone was lucky enough to have a big brother with them.) The teasing made him shyer in it until, finally, he stopped. If he drew, he only doodled. He didn’t draw pictures to give to anyone, certainly not stick-figure families in a place where family didn’t exist.

And he never dared say it out loud. It would embarrass Seto. The other boys would laugh. They would call him weak. They would push him down. So he never said it.

Then there was Gozaburo’s mansion, a palace of ice with no room for a single warm word, and Gozaburo himself as the frozen king, ready to punish any sign of weakness. In Gozaburo’s frosted eyes, love was the greatest weakness of all. He would have hit Mokuba for saying it, but he also would have hit Seto for inspiring it.

So in the ten years without their parents, Mokuba couldn’t remember the last time he’d told his brother he loved him. Seto never said it, but that was expected—it was Seto. He always said what he said through actions: building an old-timey train into Kaibaland because Mokuba wanted one, asking for Mokuba’s input on the Duel Disk when the last thing he needed was amateur tech advice. Seto liked actions, and he was clear enough with them; Mokuba never doubted the meaning.

It was Mokuba who liked words. He liked the look and sound. He liked the plainness. And he’d been silent for years.

But it wouldn’t be another day.

With that resolution, Mokuba squared his shoulders and marched straight from the mansion door to the upstairs home office, the room where Seto locked himself up when he really had deadlines. Mokuba tried not to intrude if Seto was in his office, but this time he threw the door open with purpose.

“Can’t it wait?” Seto snapped, barely glancing away from his computer. The clack of the keys never paused.

He was impatient with the work, not with Mokuba. Sometimes it still hurt, but not tonight, because Mokuba wasn’t looking for anything; he’d come with a purpose.

“I love you,” he announced. “And no, it couldn’t wait.”

Seto looked up, his blue eyes startled, his fingers frozen above a silent keyboard. Then the corner of his mouth twitched, and he shook his head. “Goodnight, Mokuba.”

“’Night, Seto. I love you.” Just to be certain.

This time, Seto gave a breathy laugh. The clack of the keys resumed, a little brighter than before, a little less fierce.

With a grin, Mokuba closed the door and let Seto get back to work.


End file.
